shìyuē
by the manliest man
Summary: It only took him half a day to fall in love with that strange little girl, but almost eight years to realize it.
1. The Arrogant Prince

**01: **_The Arrogant Prince_

Ling Yao, 12th prince of Xing, looks up and frowns. The sky is gray, and the bright sun is hidden behind layers of depressing Nimbus clouds. It looks like he will not be playing outdoors today. The eight year old prince walks back to his palace—his own safe haven—and sits at the stairs, sulking. Servants mill around, watering flowers, changing curtains, preparing food, doing things that servants normally do. No one pays attention to the sulking prince with the sour expression. Hardly anyone ever does.

"Young lord, may I ask you why you are sulking? Do you need anything?" Ling looks up, expression still sour, and sees a grown up lady. He recognizes her. She is Mei Fan, one of the high servants in the castle.

"I want to play outside, but the weather won't clear," Ling states simply, looking directly at Mei Fan's eyes.

"I cannot do anything about it, then," Mei Fan replies, "Better play inside then, young lord, or you might catch a cold,"

Ling sniffs indignantly. He is the 12th prince of Xing and no one is supposed to defy him. "I want to play outside. I can do what I want,"

"No, you cannot," Mei Fan says softly.

Ling's eyes narrow, and he says with a sneer, "You cannot tell me what to do,"

"Yes, I can," Mei Fan says patiently.

This only makes Ling madder, "A servant like you has no right to say that. If you are going to talk back to me like that, then you can leave this castle. Permanently,"

A triumphant smirk appears on the arrogant young prince's face when the lady is unable to respond. Mei Fan stares at him, regarding him with mild curiosity, before she heaves a suffering sigh. She removes her cloak from her shoulders and put them around the little prince, who gawks at her quite openly, "Alright, then, young one. But don't blame me if you come with down with flu tonight,"

Then she's leaving, walking away from him with slow, careful strides. He looks at her back, small hands reaching to clutch the cloak that she had wrapped around his shoulders. Now, this arrogant little prince wouldn't recognize kindness even if it hits him in the face. So he shrugs, brushing off the incident, and walks out of the door into the wide gardens of the Yao Clan's castle. The wind was chilly, and the sun still hasn't come out. This annoys Ling Yao immensely.

"Why won't you come out, you blasted sun?" He says, staring hard at the sky, as if expecting the sun to come out just because he ordered it to.

The sun stays behind the clouds, not even moving an inch. The prince trudges further into the gardens, ignoring the biting cold of the wind. Mei Fan's cloak keeps him warm enough. Then he hears voices. He peeks out from behind a thick bush and sees five kids his age sitting on the grass by the pond. Three boys and two girls. Servant's kids, undoubtedly.

"Eh… the weather is funny, today," One of the boys say, "It's a nice change,"

"Grandma does not know I am out here," One of the girls sigh deeply, "She will scold me once she finds out, I am sure,"

The other girl laughs, "It is what makes this exciting, right?"

"I'm not so sure," The first girl says, but she is smiling.

"Hmm…do you think the prince gets to go out even if the weather is bad?" Another boy asks.

"Probably, he'd only bribe the servants with higher positions, and then they'd be all over him,"

Ling Yao flushes a deep red. These kids are talking about him behind his back.

"Oh, really?" The second girls sighs, "He is so lucky, being born as the Yao clan's successor. He gets to do anything he wants, and he gets anything he wants, too. He's so lucky it almost make me envious,"

"You should not be envious, Xiao Jin," One of the boys says, then he snickers, "Have you seen the prince? Such a sorry excuse for a boy, if you ask me. He's thinner than a bamboo, and I doubt that he can even beat up a marshmallow. He is pretty sickly, too, and most of the servants hate him. They say he is an arrogant little runt. Father says they only put up with him because he is a prince,"

Ling Yao feels sick; sick to the stomach. Is what the boy saying true? That the servants really hate him? Sure, he isn't the nicest little boy around, but he knows he is not mean enough to incite such hurtful words from the servants. He is not arrogant; not arrogant; _not arrogant. _He decides that he doesn't want to hear those words again.

"Eh…that is not nice,"

"What's not nice, Lan Fan?"

"What you just said," A girl, Lan Fan, says, "Have you ever even met the prince?"

"I have seen him,"

"But have you talked to him before?"

"No, I don't see a need to,"

"Then you should not talk about him like that behind his back," Lan Fan says, a little hesitantly, "My grandmother says he is just a troubled child. She says he just needs friends, or something to look forward to,"

"What is your problem, Lan Fan?" The boy sneers, "Are you teaming up with the prince just because he is royalty? Oh, I think I get it. You are just like your grandmother, kissing up to royalty to reap benefits,"

Lan Fan looks like she wants to cry, but is desperately holding her tears back, "My grandmother is not like that. She is just kind, and I look up to her. I'm not teaming up with anyone,"

"No, you're teaming up with the prince because he is royalty," The boy almost spits, "It doesn't really matter these days, does it? It doesn't matter if you are an arrogant runt not, as long as you have gold hanging from your ears!"

That is when Ling Yao, 12th prince of Xing, steps out from the bushes, face red from both anger and embarrassment. The kids are frozen in fear and shock. He stares at them, eyes cold and angry.

"I am not arrogant!" He yells, like he does when he is having a tantrum.

One yell from him is enough to make the kids spring from the ground and run away screaming. Ling Yao breathes in and out, trying to wash away the anger, resentment, and humiliation bubbling inside him. He slowly reaches for his ears and removes the gold hoops hanging there. He now thinks of it as a symbol for arrogance, a word he does not want to hear again.

"Ahh!"

He looks up, and spots one of the kids lying sprawled on the grass.

He squints slightly, and recognizes her. He walks towards her, and offers his hand. She looks up unsurely, fear still evident in her dark eyes. But she defended him from the boy back there, and Ling feels grateful. So when she still doesn't accept his hand, he reaches for it instead, ignoring the gasp coming from her.

"Thank you," She says meekly as he pulls her up, "I tripped on a rock. I feel so embarrassed,"

'_Your embarrassment can't even be compared to mine', _Ling thinks darkly, but he says, "It's quite alright. Nothing to be embarrassed about. If I heard it right, your name is Lan Fan, right?"

"Yes," She says quietly.

The silence stretches on for a few seconds, then she speaks again.

"I am sorry, my friends don't usually talk about you behind your back. It won't happen again, Prince Ling Yao…"

"Call me 'young lord'," Ling says with a shrug, "It's what everyone else calls me. It's less of a mouthful that way. And you do not need to apologize. If anyone will apologize, it should be that boy. He talks too much,"

"And none of it is true," Lan Fan says quickly, "He mostly spits out nonsense,"

Ling Yao gives her a pointed look, "You are defending him,"

"Huh?"

"You are afraid that I will punish him," Ling says simply, "Even after he criticized both you and your grandmother, you still fear for his safety,"

"He is still my friend," She says, her dark eyes are big and innocent, and that's when Ling Yao decides that she knows very little about the world. Then she adds softly, "Us servants stick together as much as we can. All we have is each other,"

And that's when Ling Yao decides that he is wrong. She is just naïve.

"I will not do anything to him," He says to her.

She sighs and smiles shyly, "Thank you, young lord,"

Then she bows to him, like most of the servants do. He only nods before he walks away. He does not turn around until he reaches the castle again. He walks back in and ignores the servants as they fuss over him, removing Mei Fan's cloak from his shoulders and brushing fallen leaves from his dark hair. He climbs up the stairs until he reaches the third floor, where his room is located. He enters, sits down on his bed, and thinks.

_Arrogant runt. Thinner than a bamboo. Can't even beat up a marshmallow. _The words burn him, and he actually feels something painful in his chest. He places his hand on it, but the pain doesn't go away. It feels like it comes from inside him, and he doesn't know how to treat wounds that he doesn't even see. How he ever got wounded from the inside, he does not know.

He lifts himself from the bed and approaches the wide mirror that occupies half of his room's left wall. His arms are thin, they don't have muscles, and he hates to admit it to himself, but he knows he can't fight well. _I need to train, _he thinks, and he knows that he cannot train until he is ten years old, but he cannot wait any longer.

Night eventually falls, and Ling Yao refuses to come down for dinner. The servants try their best to persuade him, but he has no interest in coming down and seeing the faces of the servants who think of him so badly. But he is hungry, and he knows he should eat. But he wills himself to fight it. He will not come down; he will not; _he will not._

"Young lord?" The voice comes from the other side of the thick wooden doors of his bedroom, and he recognizes it.

"Mei Fan," He says.

"I am coming in, young lord," And she does, carrying a wooden tray with food on it. The smell is enough to make his stomach rumble. He scowls when she laughs.

"It's no use pretending to hide it, I know you are hungry," She sits beside him, on his bed, without asking for his permission. "Did you get sick, young lord?"

Yes, he feels very sick, but not in the way she thinks. So he just nods.

"I did tell you not to play outside," She admonishes, stirring the soup with a spoon. "Not eat up, young lord. You need all the strength you can get,"

He hesitates, but he knows he is hungry, and he can feel it. So he eats the food. And as he did, he feels strange emotions starting to stir in him. Then he realizes how hurt he was and how desperately lonely he feels right now.

"Ah, don't cry now, young one," Mei Fan says, wiping his cheeks with the hems of her skirt, "Your tears will make the soup salty, and the cook did try so hard to make it sweet,"

And that is all. She comforts him, and talks to him, yet she does not ask questions. It is as if she knows; as if she understands him. Of course, he is royalty so she cannot just interfere with his personal problems, but she's there, and she understands, and she knows what he's going through. For a brief moment, he feels like his mother is with him again. When he finally lies down to sleep, she sits on a chair by his bed and sings him lullabies with her clear voice.

When she is finished, she smiles.

"You remind me a lot of my grandchild, young lord," She says, then she stands up and dusts her skirts with her hands, "I apologize, but I must go back now. My little granddaughter has a hard time sleeping if I don't sing to her,"

Ling Yao nods, and he wants to say thank you, but he can't. Instead he says, "Good night,"

Mei Fan nods, "Goodnight, young lord. I will see you tomorrow,"

-x-

Ling eats breakfast at the dining hall the next day. He avoids the servants' eyes as does, and he tries to finish the soup and potato croquet as fast as time would allow. He leaves the castle immediately after this, dying to escape the servants' penetrating gazes. Thankfully, the weather is fine today, and the sun is up and about. But Ling does not notice this. Instead, he sits on the stairs and begins to sulk, pretty much what he did yesterday. He watches—with a very sour expression—as small ants make their way towards a small hole at the edge of the stairs, looking like a mini hundred-man army.

When he hears a rustle coming from the bushes, he looks up and sees a girl with long black hair. He recognizes her. Her name is Xiao Jin, one of Lan Fan's companions from yesterday. She sees him too, and he holds her gaze with his cold eyes, as if daring her to stare back. But she doesn't let their eyes meet, and she scampers away from the garden, ducking her head, her face beet red.

Ling Yao smirks smugly at this. '_Yes, you should be ashamed of yourself', _He thinks.

He gains a newfound confidence at this, so he hoists himself up from the stairs and walks around the garden. He carefully avoids the hundred-man ant army as he heads towards the pond. The same place where he found the other kids yesterday. But when he peeks from behind a bush, the place is empty. The water is still. No one came here today.

Ling sits at the edge of the pond and tosses a small pebble, watching ripples form as it sinks to the bottom. Then he hears a rustling sound again. He turns around and sees Xiao Jin, who looks positively horrified.

He holds her gaze like before, but now he remarks coolly, "What do you want?"

Xiao Jin shakes her head, and she looks down on the ground, shaking.

Ling's voice is cold and hard now, "As the successor of the Yao clan, I forbid you to ever step foot in this part of the garden again. If you do, I will have to drown you in this pond,"

Xiao Jin bursts into tears, and she nods her head rapidly, keeping her gaze on the grass.

"Xiao Jin!"

Ling recognizes that voice. It belongs to that other girl from yesterday; Lan Fan.

She emerges from the bushes, carrying a small woven basket filled with blueberries. Ling Yao does not know why, but he stiffens.

"Xiao Jin?" She approaches the other girl, and sees that she is crying. "Xiao Jin! Whatever is the matter?"

Xiao Jin only mutters an incoherent string of words that Ling does not understand, but he knows that Lan Fan does, because she turns to his direction immediately, "Young lord?"

He holds her gaze, "What?"

A look of disbelief crosses Lan Fan's face, "Why did you scold Xiao Jin?"

Ling lifts his chin up high when he replies, "It's only natural to scold troublemakers,"

"Xiao Jin did not do anything!" Lan Fan retorts, no hesitation evident in her voice, "She did not even insult you behind your back! Didn't you hear the whole conversation?"

Ling stiffens at this, but he refuses to back out, "Then she should not be acting so guilty. Only the cat whole stole the fish should be avoiding his owner's eyes like that,"

Lan Fan does not reply, but Ling knows he did not win. She just stares at him, disbelief and disappointment clearly on her face. Why is she disappointed? He does not know. But he feels disappointed as well. And he also does not know why. He does not know why, but he still feels like he should not let this mere servant's child beat him in an argument. He is a prince, and he can do anything he wants. So he stands up and looks at her smugly.

"If you want, I can ban _both _of you from entering this part of the garden,"

Lan Fan just looks at him. Xiao Jin's face is still on her shoulder. Ling tries not to look directly at Lan Fan, so keeps his gaze plastered on the crying girl instead. This makes him feel guilty. So he shifts his eyes to Lan Fan's face. This makes his face heat up, though he does not know why. So he looks at the grass instead. Much better.

When the silence stretches on, Ling Yao gives up. He turns around, not bothering to look back.

"I am going to go and have my lunch," He says with a sneer as he trudges away, apparently forgetting that lunch time is still three hours away, "I do not want to see your faces when I get back here,"

'_Stupid servant girl and her stupid, big, innocent eyes'_, he thinks, face even sourer than before, all the while feeling Lan Fan's gaze still boring through his back.

But then Lan Fan calls out, "Good morning, young lord, I hope you slept well,"

That's when he runs away, trying to make sense of the thoughts jumbling inside his head.

-x-

"You are sulking again, young lord,"

He looks up and sees Mei Fan, holding a tray of blueberries.

Mei Fan tilts her head to the side, "Is something bothering you, young lord?"

Ling looks down at his palms, "Nothing,"

Mei Fan only sighs, "It doesn't seem like it, to me,"

Ling Yao only scowls, and stays silent. He waits for Mei Fan to leave, because he does not want to talk today. He just wants to sit down and sulk his problems away. Though he does not even know what the real problem is. Mei Fan sighs and eventually leaves, deeming him 'too impossible' at the moment. He sits at the stairs, sulking like the snotty eight year-old that he is, ignoring the servants' futile attempts to cheer him up. When they ask him why, he does not respond. Not out of rudeness, but because he does not know the answer himself.

After dinner, Ling bolts out of the castle, feeling the inexplicable need to be outdoors. He ignores the servants that are calling out to him.

"You will catch a cold, young lord!"

He runs out of the castle with a lamp in hand before the servants decide to chase him. The darkness is overwhelming, and Ling has never been particularly fond of the dark. It makes him think of his own future; uncertain and unknown, like how one feels when cloaked in total darkness. He stumbles his way to the part of the garden where the pond lies, and sits at the edge, placing the lamp on the space beside him.

For him, being indoors too much is pretty much the same as drowning. It's suffocating, and he can't breathe with all the penetrating gazes being directed at him.

When he looks up, he thought that the stars have inexplicably floated closer to the ground, but he realizes that they are only fireflies. He removes his boots and dangles his feet at the edge of the pond before lying down on the grass, folding his arms behind his head, cushioning it. The sight of the fireflies dancing overhead, the scent of grass and wildflowers under his body, and the feeling of the cold water lapping against his feet lulls him to sleep.

At first, he thinks he is dreaming.

"Young lord,"

Who on earth is calling him?

"Young lord?"

He recognizes the voice now, it belongs to that girl. Lan Fan.

"Young lord!"

Why is she annoying him even in his dreams?

"Young lord!"

The great mother dragon of Xing must really hate him for—

"Young lord!" This time, he is positively sure she is shouting directly at his ear.

He bolts upright, and nearly shrieks when he sees her pale face, staring at him. So it wasn't a stupid nightmare. He rubs his eyes awake and points his index finger at her.

"What are you doing here?" He splutters, "Didn't I tell you that you are banned here?"

Lan Fan tilts her head to the side, confused, "You mean you meant it?"

He gives her a look of utter disbelief, "What makes you think I didn't? I mean _everything _I say!"

Lan Fan looks like she doesn't believe him. Instead she says, "What are you doing here so late at night, young lord?"

"I should ask you the same question," He replies, stifling a yawn.

She hesitates at first, "I like it here,"

Then she raises her hand upwards and gestures at the fireflies dancing overhead. "I like looking at the fireflies. They look a lot like stars. Tonight the sky is starless because the clouds are covering them. That's why I came down here to look at the fireflies instead,"

"Well, what's stupid," Ling remarks.

Lan Fan looks affronted, "Why so?"

"What makes you think that fireflies can replace stars?" Ling says rather smugly, "It's not like water can replace wine, can it? If it's not the same thing, then why go for it?"

Lan Fan starts to fumble with the hems of her skirt, "It's better than nothing. Water won't be as delicious as wine, but at least you won't dehydrate to death,"

"You think like a servant," Ling says, chin up high.

But Lan Fan only smiles, "I know,"

Ling scowls, because he does not understand. And he doesn't like it when he doesn't understand. He expected Lan Fan to storm away, offended, but she only gave him a small _'I know' _as an answer. Ling does not understand. And it makes him feel angry. But he is a prince, so surely Lan Fan knows that she cannot just 'storm away'. That answer must be an act of politeness, or fear of his royal status. Yes, that must be it.

"I will ban you from my castle if you continue this!" Ling splutters out, jabbing a finger in her direction.

"Continue what?" Lan Fan looks genuinely confused.

Ling falls silent, then he crosses his arms to his chest and looks at the opposite direction.

"I—" Lan Fan blinks, "Did I do something wrong…?"

"Yes!"

"What?"

"I don't know!"

Lan Fan frowns and examines him, eyebrows narrowing. Ling holds her gaze for a few seconds, then he starts to feel weird, like a really hairy spider is creeping up on the back of his neck. That's when he looks away.

They sit side by side, staring at the glowing reflections of the fireflies at the clear surface of the pond. Ling decides that he prefers Lan Fan this way: not talking to him and not staring at him. He finds her eyes unnerving, and he finds her words confusing. But he feels her silent presence beside him comforting, and for the first time in years, he does not feel lonely.


	2. The Servant Girl

**02: **_The Servant Girl _

Ling, 12th prince of Xing, opens his eyes and immediately sees golden sunlight entering through the gaps of the velvet curtains. He sits up, yawns, and scratches his head. He blinks a few times, trying to adjust to the brightness of the room. Suddenly, someone knocks on the door. Ling does not bother to reply, because he knows it is only Mei Fan, and she always comes in even if he does not say so anyway. She's just different that way, always acting like his mother.

"Good morning, young lord," Mei Fan comes in, carrying a small basin filled with water and a white face towel.

He nods, "Good morning,"

She sets the basin on his bedside table and waits as he lazily climbs out of bed and washes his face. She hands him the face towel once he's done, and he uses it to dry his face. Then he notices Mei Fan's grim expression.

"Did something happen?" He asks, hesitantly.

"Nothing much, young lord," The old woman laughs, "It's just that I scolded my little granddaughter last night, and now she's upset with me. I'm torn between apologizing to her and ignoring her sulking. I know she deserved the scolding, but still…"

"Why did you scold her?" Ling asks. He hardly has anyone to talk to, and here's someone who is actually willing to have a conversation with him. Might as well make use of it.

Mei Fan heaves a suffering sigh, "She came home late last night. At one in the morning, to be precise,"

Ling stiffens slightly, the gears in his head whirring.

"—and when I asked her where she was, she only kept quiet—"

Ling is absolutely positive now.

"—something is amiss, I am sure of it. She has never kept secrets from me before—"

It definitely is her.

"What is the name of your granddaughter?" Ling suddenly asks. He is sure, but he wants confirmation.

Mei Fan hesitates only for a few seconds, but eventually she says, "Her name is Lan Fan,"

"Oh," Ling only says, suddenly finding the floor very interesting to look at. Mei Fan does not notice this change, and only continues to fuss over the drops of water that he left on the floor after washing his face. Suddenly, her gaze lands on the carpet on the floor. It is streaked with mud.

"Goodness!" She exclaims, "What happened to your carpet, young lord?"

Ling does not reply. He only picks up the basin and swirls his fingers on the water, forming ripples.

Mei Fan gives him a scrutinizing gaze, "Were you out somewhere last night, young lord?"

Ling grumbles a string of incoherent words.

"I think I should take that as a yes," Mei Fan says, one eyebrow arching upwards, "So where were you last night?"

Ling only glares at the basin. Almost all of the servants in the castle know that he had gone somewhere last night, but no one really cares as long as finds his way back. Despite Mei Fan's concern about his whereabouts, he still finds it slightly annoying. It looks like his escapades are not going to be left unwatched any longer.

"Not answering, I see," Mei Fan sighs, "But it is not my business, so I will not press you further. I just want to make sure you are not getting yourself into trouble, you hear me young lord?"

Ling nods, glad that she's letting the matter slide.

Mei Fan picks up the basin and slings the towel over her shoulder, "I'll be going out now. Do you want your breakfast to be served here, or will you come down yourself?"

"I'll come down," Ling replies.

Mei Fan nods, then she looks at the carpet, "And I suppose you want me to send someone up here to replace your carpet?"

Ling nods, throat suddenly feeling tight again, "That'd be great,"

"Alright, then. I'll see you later, young master," And she shuts the door behind her. Ling sinks back down on his bed and stares at the ceiling. So Lan Fan is Mei Fan's beloved granddaughter. Somehow, it doesn't surprise him. Their names should have made it obvious, anyway.

He hoists himself up from his bed and throws open the covers of his huge wardrobe. He fishes out new clothes and throws his old clothes at the carpet on the floor. A servant will just come and get it later. He leaves the wardrobe open as well as he dashes out of his room and speeds down to the dining hall, surprising several servants. He eats his food as fast he can, nearly choking in the process. Then he rushes out of the castle and into the gardens.

He stops suddenly. _'Why am I in a hurry…?"_

Deep down he knows it, but he doesn't understand, nor is he willing to. So he shakes his head to get rid of the strange, foreign thoughts before dashing towards the spot beside the pond. When he arrives, the place is empty.

Ling feels disappointed, and maybe even sad. He does not even know what he expected to see once he got here.

"Oh, young lord,"

He turns around, and then he doesn't know why, but the icy peak in his chest seems to melt off at the sight of the short little girl with the unruly, long, black hair and round face.

Ling quickly forces a stoic look on his face, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to play, of course," Lan Fan says, shrugging.

"This is _my _secret place," Ling says before he can stop himself, "Only I can come here,"

"You're lying, young lord!" Lan Fan accuses him, "I have been coming here for the last two years and never once did I see you here!"

Ling is angry, "I'm the prince, so I'm always right!"

"That's not fair! You're just being silly, young lord!"

And the small argument ends with Ling throwing himself on the smaller child, wrestling her to the ground. Unfortunately, the outcome of the battle does not end in Ling's favour, and by the time they stop, Ling is the one being pinned to the grass. He is red with exhaustion while Lan Fan is grinning happily.

"You're so weak, young lord!"

"Shut up! Now get off of me!"

Lan Fan stands up and wipes off dirt and leaves from her plain dress. Ling does this as well, and scowls when he see grass stains on his fine clothes.

"See what you did?" He says, scowling.

"You're the one who started it, young lord!"

"Oh yeah? And who do you think will they believe once I tell them?"

Lan Fan opens her mouth to reply, but then shuts it. She trudges towards the end of the pond and sits there, dangling her legs at the edge. She doesn't turn back to face him again. So Ling walks away, feeling disappointed. He knows he should apologize, but he doesn't, because he is the 12th prince of Xing and he doesn't need to apologize.

Suddenly, he hears the sound of weight being lifted from grass and the shuffling of skirts, so he turns around and sees Lan Fan trudging along beside him. He stares, confused, wondering what to say, but she beats him at it.

"So where are we going?" She asks him.

He stares at her incredulously, "Where are _we _going?" Since when have they become a sort of team…?

"Yes," She nods promptly, not catching the hidden question in his question.

So she still wants to tag along with him. Despite the beat down she gave his enormous ego earlier, Ling finds out that he wants her to tag along with him as well.

"I'm going to train," He says to her.

She blinks, "Train? You mean you want to practice fighting?"

"Well, not really, because I cannot start my training unless I turn ten, so I'm just going to go train on my own until then," Ling tells her.

Lan Fan nods, "I can see why you think you need some training. You certainly put up as much of a fight as a crippled cat earlier,"

"Oh, shut up,"

They walk around the garden, conversing lightly. Ling is leading the way, and Lan Fan does not object. But she walks a few steps behind them while they talk, to show politeness. When they reach the end of the garden, Lan Fan stops him.

"Beyond this point is the forest, young lord," Despite her calmness, Ling knows there is a warning in her words.

So, in a very confident and princely way, he assures her, "This is the Yao Clan's forest. It's still a part of our territory, so I'm sure it'll be safe there,"

"…if you say so, young lord," There is doubt in her words, but Ling is going to prove himself. He briefly wonders why he wants to prove his worth to this lowly servant's daughter, but he shakes off the foreign thought and the peculiar feeling that came with it. He takes the lead as they march towards the forest. It is dark, much darker than the garden because of the shade that the thick forest trees give. Ling stops and looks around, nodding his head approvingly.

"What are we going to do here, young lord?" Lan Fan asks, looking around as well.

"Like I said, I want to train," Ling replies.

"What kind of training, then?" Lan Fan tilts her head to the side, wondering.

Ling spreads his arms wide and gestures to the vast forest. "I've read in books from the library that endurance is always a very helpful ability in both combat and travelling, so I want to test out my endurance here, and this forest is wide enough for the job,"

"Endurance…?"

Ling looks at her, confused, then he remembers that commoner females don't receive proper education, so he quickly supplies, "Endurance is the ability of the body to last long while doing a certain activity. Like fighting or running, for instance,"

"Oh, I see," Lan Fan is pleased to know it, and Ling feels a surge of pride.

"So you are going to run around until you get tired, then?" Lan Fan asks, and Ling nods.

"That's right,"

"Okay, just wait for a moment, then," Ling watches curiously as Lan Fan bunches up her skirt to the side and ties it beside her left thigh.

"What are you doing, Lan Fan?"

"I can't run with this long skirt, can I?" She replies.

Ling's eyes widen slightly, "You're going to train?"

"Of course," Lan Fan grins, "I want to be stronger, too, young lord! You may not be aware of it but my family happens to be one of the families in the clan that serve as the retainers of the Yao clan. It means I may become a bodyguard someday, and I want to be prepared for it,"

Ling makes a mental note to ask Mei Fan about these so called 'retainers' later on. For now, he just nods and says, "Well what about your hair?"

Lan Fan ties it up with a tattered ribbon and slips it under the back of dress. Ling nods, "That works,"

"So…what do we do now, young lord?" Lan Fan asks.

Ling looks around and takes in the vast landscape of the forest, "We'll just run around the forest until we get tired, I guess,"

Lan Fan frowns, thinking deeply, then her eyes widen with delight as an idea suddenly strikes her head, "How about we run and see which one of us will get tired first? That way we'll know if we need to improve a lot or not,"

For the first time in months, Ling grins, "That'll work!"

-x-

Ling feels frustrated. He lies on his back, hands stretching out to feel the rough ground of the forest, breathing heavily and his face is red. Lan Fan is standing, looming over him, her hands plastered on her hips. "Young lord, you need to train more! You're pathetic!"

"Oh…shut…up…" Ling glares at her, and feels truly pathetic at being too short of breath to even form one single insult in a straight manner.

Lan Fan lies down beside him, eventually giving in to fatigue. She stretches her arms like him, enjoying the feel of the earth on her fingertips. Ling turns his head slightly too look at her. Her face is muddy and her hair looks like a crow's nest. But he sees that she is smiling, and doesn't help but wonder why.

"Why are you smiling?" He asks.

Lan Fan turns her head to look at him, "Because I feel happy,"

"Happy?" Ling doesn't know what happiness has to do with running around the forest and getting mud all over her pretty clothes. And her pretty face. But he isn't about to say that.

"This is the first time I've ever felt so free," She's laughing now, and this leaves Ling puzzled, "This is the first time I've gotten so much mud on my clothes as well, and this is definitely the first time I've ever sweated this much! It's uncomfortable, but I like it. That's why I'm happy,"

She twists until she's lying on her side and facing him, "What about you, young lord? Aren't you happy?"

Ling breaks away from her gaze so he can think. Because, he finds out, that looking straight into her dark eyes renders him unable to think straight. But he certainly doesn't know why. When he is finished, he says, "I'm not lonely,"

Lan Fan gives him a curious look, but then rolls on her back again and looks up at the sunlight filtering through the gaps on the leaves, casting strange shapes around the forest floor and on their young faces.

Suddenly, Lan Fan stands up, "Ready for another go, young lord?"

He hoists himself up from the ground, "I'll beat you this time,"

And that is how they spent the entire day, running around the forest, stopping once in a while for short breaks. After four more rounds, Ling realizes that while Lan Fan is able to last longer than him, he is able to outrun her easily. So when their training session is over, he goes into over-confident prince mode and tells her, "Lan Fan, what you need to develop is your speed. Even if your endurance is pretty high, you still won't be able to last long in the battlefield if you can't evade the opponent's attacks,"

"Same goes for you, young lord," Lan Fan remarks, "You may be fast, but you can't keep up your speed for long,"

So, bearing these tips in mind, they both trudge away from the forest. They're silent this time, too tired to even talk, and Lan Fan is still walking a few steps behind him. When they reach the spot beside the pond, they give each other awkward goodbyes.

When Ling arrives at the castle, the servants fuss over him.

"Young lord! Where have you been?"

"You missed lunch, young lord! You must be starving! Here, let me prepare it for you,"

"Young lord! What happened to your clothes? Did you fall down? Did you get bruises, young lord?"

"Let me prepare your bath, young lord!"

Ling allows a servant to drag him upstairs. Before he steps inside his room, the servant removes his mud-caked shoes to prevent mud from being tracked inside. The room is spotless, as usual, and the mud-stained carpet has been replaced. Ling stands in the centre of the room while servants buzz around the room. One of them opens his wardrobe and pulls out a set of clothes for him, while another one is busy preparing his bath.

Ling steps inside the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He smells the sweet smell of lilacs in the tub. After removing his muddy clothes, he sinks himself under the fragrant bathwater and allows his thoughts to wander. Somehow, the feel of the chilly forest air and the scent of pine needles and mud are much more comforting than this sweet-smelling lukewarm bath.

He dressed himself before stepping out of the bathroom. The servants immediately lead him downstairs where his dinner is waiting. Its amount is twice than the usual, but he finds out that he is famished after all, and he eats up all of it without complaints. He lets a servant tuck him in bed, and he falls asleep immediately.

-x-

"The day of the hungry ghost?"

Ling looks up from the drawing he is making on the muddy ground to stare at Lan Fan's curious face. She has stopped tracing patterns on the ground as well, and is now looking expectantly at him.

"Yes, the day of the hungry ghost," Ling says, "It happens during the fifteenth day of the seventh month in the lunar calendar,"

Lan Fan is intrigued now, "Well, what's it about?"

Ling shifts his body so he finds himself facing her, "They say that during the Day of the Hungry Ghost, the gate to the lower realms open, and many ghosts pass through. Nobody really believes in it, though, so don't let it get to your head, Lan Fan. It's just a sort of superstition, like the 'don't let a black cat cross your path' crap that those Amestrians believe,"

"Amestrians…?"

"Those are the people who live in the country called Amestris, found west of the desert," Ling replies.

"Do bad people live there?" Lan Fan is tracing patterns on the ground again.

"I don't know," Ling shrugs, "My books never describe the kind of people who live there,"

"I didn't know there are people who live outside of Xing,"

Ling takes Lan Fan's stick and starts drawing a poor version of the map that hangs on the walls of his study room back at the castle, "This is Xing right here," He taps his stick on a rather large blob that he drew on the ground. "And this is Amestris," He draws a smaller circle-shaped blob on its left. Then he draws another large blob on top of Amestris, "This is Drachma," And when he is finished drawing the last blob, he pointed to it and said, "And this is Creta,"

Ling tosses the stick back to her, and she catches it with her small hands, "Wow…I can't believe it. I wonder why Grandma never told me about this,"

'_Probably because she doesn't know much about it,' _Ling thinks to himself, thinking about the lack of proper education that commoner females in Xing receive.

"By the way, about the hungry ghosts, are you sure it's just a superstition?" Lan Fan questions, looking at him with her big, dark eyes.

"I'm pretty sure," Ling nods, "The lower realm is called many things. It's 'The Lower Realm' here in Xing. It's called 'The Cold Country' in Drachma. The people from Creta don't believe in it, and in Amestris, it is simply called 'The Gate' or 'The Gate of Truth',"

Lan Fan's eyes are shining with delight, "Wow…that's so cool. I wish I was a boy, too, young lord. I want to learn about stuff like that, too! Amestris sounds like an interesting place! I'd like to go there someday and meet lots of interesting new people!"

"I think I'll be perfectly content here in Xing," Ling shrugs.

The sun gradually becomes hotter as noon approaches. Ling is fanning himself with a wide leaf he plucked from a nearby plant, and Lan Fan is asking him more questions about Amestris, Drachma, Creta, and the other countries that lie beyond the harsh deserts that separate Xing from the rest of them. Ling tells her as much as he knows, and when they are finished talking about a ruined place called Xerxes, Lan Fan excuses herself.

"I should be getting back now, young lord," She says, standing up, "Grandma was angry with me yesterday for missing lunch. I can't afford to make her angry three days in a row. I think she's still mad about me going home late the other night,"

Ling nods at her, "I'll stay here a bit longer before I go back for lunch,"

Lan Fan doesn't move. She looks at him, and her gaze moves to the vast forest spread out before them. Her eyes glint in a strange way and they move around, taking in every detail in the forest. Her eyebrows crease together and her nose wrinkles slightly, as if she sees something he doesn't. As if she's expecting something to happen. Something bad. She reminds Ling of a man he met back then, a bodyguard by the name of Fu.

She snaps him out of his thoughts, "Are you sure you want to stay here, young lord?"

"Yes," Ling replies, "Why?"

She lifts her hand and points to a spot ahead of them, "On the other side of this forest lies the territory of the Liang Clan. I don't think it's safe,"

"This is the Yao Clan's forest," Ling tells her, "Nobody from another clan would dare come here without permission,"

Lan Fan doesn't look convinced, but she nods, "Alright, then. I'll see you soon, young lord,"

"I'll meet you at the pond," He tells her, and she nods again.

With one last look at the vast forest, she runs away almost hesitantly. Ling lies on his back and stretches his arms, feeling the earth on the tips of his fingers. He closes his eyes, enjoying the smell of pine-needles and mud. Then he feels something, a very vague feeling that feels like it's coming from the back of his head. Suddenly, it feels as if the earth is shaking. He sits up quickly. The ground is perfectly still.

'_Am I imagining things?'_

He rubs his forehead, thinking that he must be tired. Then he feels it. The hairs on his arm stand on an end. He does not know how to describe the feeling, only that he knows it is coming closer. Ling quickly grabs hold of the small knife he keeps inside his robe's pocket, and holds it with fumbling fingers. Then the strange feeling overwhelms him, and Ling drops down on the ground, knees suddenly weak.

'_What was that…?'_

"Oh, hey, are you alright, kid?"

Ling looks up sharply, and sees another boy. His eyes are dark and squinty, like his own, and the boy's hair is dark, too, but quite long, reaching his shoulder blades. He seems older, too. He is probably around thirteen to fourteen years old.

He holds out his hand, and after hesitating a bit, Ling accepts it. The older boy hauls him up.

Ling eyes him wearily, "Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm Kuan. Just Kuan," The boy scratches his head and laughs in a nervous manner. "Am I in trouble…?"

Ling blinks, and then shakes his head, "No,"

"That's great, then," The boy smiles and Ling gets caught up in his easy, light mood. He finds himself feeling relaxed as well. His grip on the knife is lighter now.

Kuan examines him, "You must be a rich little kid, huh?"

Ling looks down at his fine clothes, and nods, "Yes, I'm the Yao Clan's successor, actually,"

Kuan stops, and stares at him curiously, "So you're Ling Yao, correct?"

Ling nods.

The boy laughs, "Oh, so I'm in the presence of the 12th prince of Xing! How embarrassing, showing up here dressed like this,"

Then he leans down to face Ling more evenly, "So, are you really fine, little prince? You look like you might have fainted back there,"

"It's nothing," Ling shrugs, "I just felt sick for a moment, like the world is suddenly shaking or something. But I'm fine now. I wonder what that was, though,"

Kuan stares at him again, in the same curious way as before, "Did it happen only minutes before I got here?"

Ling nods again, "Yes,"

"I see," Kuan nods, lost in his own thoughts, "How interesting,"

Ling looks at him questioningly, "You know what it is?"

"Oh, yes," Kuan grins at him again, "Your ability to sense Qi must have awakened. It's pretty surprising since you look too young. How old are you exactly?"

Ling wonders why this boy is treating him as an equal. Most royalty would deem it an insult, but Ling lets it slide just this once in order to find out what the older boy knows. "I'm eight,"

Kuan's eyebrows narrow, "How interesting,"

Ling's eyebrows narrow down, copying his own, "Why is that?"

"Oh, nothing, really," But Kuan isn't smiling anymore. His dark eyes shift to the hand that Ling is hiding behind his back. "You've got a knife behind you. It's definitely rude, don't you think?"

Ling stiffens suddenly. A strange feeling forms in his gut. It takes a while for him to decipher this, but then he realizes that the ache in his forehead is forming one clear message to him.

Run.

"Now, 12th prince of Xing, hand over the knife," The humour has completely drained from Kuan's face, and he holds out a pale hand. Ling backs away from it, his eyes never leaving the older boy. His grip on the knife is tight now, so tight that his hands are shaking because of the pressure.

"As the 12th prince of Xing," Ling says, his throat dry, "I command you to back off,"

Kuan only smirks. A cruel, frightening sight, "And as the 4th prince of Xing, I command you to hand me the knife,"

Ling is looking straight into the older boy's eyes now, "Kuan Liang, successor of the Liang Clan, right?"

His older half-brother smiles coldly, "Precisely,"

Ling's gaze is equally cold, "I'm afraid I can't give you the knife, brother,"

"That's a shame then, little brother," Kuan retracts his hand, "Looks like I'll have to get it from you!"

Just as Kuan is about to lunge at the small, eight year old Ling, someone suddenly dashes from behind him and grabs hold of Kuan Liang's arms. Ling looks up and sees a man wearing the traditional bodyguard's outfit of the Yao Clan, with a Yin mask covering his face. Kuan scowls, and when he manages to remove his arms from the man's grip, he runs off into the forest after giving Ling one last, scorn-filled look.

Ling realizes he is holding his breath, so he releases it. He drops down to the ground. It seems that his knees have suddenly turned to jelly during the past few minutes.

The man kneels down beside him, "Are you alright, young lord?"

Ling nods, his throat too dry for him to speak.

The man takes his arms and inspects them for cuts, bruises, bleeding wounds, anything that might be a threat to him, and he sets them down, satisfied, when he sees that Ling is completely fine. Ling is still holding the knife in his small hands, his thin fingers clasping it tightly. The man does not try to pry the knife away from him.

"Can you stand, young lord?"

Ling nods, and he hoists himself from the ground. They walk back to the safe gardens of the Yao palace together. Ling looks up briefly at the man's face. It is covered with a Yin mask, so he only sees the man's dark eyes. When Ling closes his eyes, he feels that same, vague feeling from before. But this one is lighter, more comforting, not at all like that cold, rough feeling he got from Kuan Liang. Ling decides that this man is safe, and something in his Qi is distinctly familiar, though Ling cannot tell exactly what it is.

'_It must be because he is from the Yao Clan as well', _Ling thinks.

"Who are you?" He asks the man.

"I'm one of the retainers in the Yao Clan," The man replies, "My name is Fu. Just Fu,"

Ling nods, then he asks again, "How did you find me?"

At first, Fu does not reply, then once they got near the Yao gardens, he lifts up his hand and points at something. Ling looks at where his finger is pointing, and he sees a girl, standing in front of the pond, waiting with an anxious expression on her round face. Lan Fan.

"My granddaughter told me to go to you, and find out if you are well. It looks like she did the right thing,"


	3. The Bodyguard

**03: **_The Bodyguard_

Ling Yao, 12th prince of Xing, is sitting on a large wooden chair in the Yao palace's meeting room, with an extremely sour look on his face. The advisors of the Yao clan are all sitting on other, smaller chairs around the wide meeting table. The man from before, Fu, is standing in front of the closed doors, keeping watch. Despite the vastness of the room, it feels uncomfortably small and tight to the young prince, and with eight pairs of eyes plastered on him, he can't help but feel suffocated.

One of the advisors clears his throat, "Well, um, good morning, young lord. I hope you slept well,"

Ling's face is as sour as ever, "It was well until you disturbed me,"

"There's a good reason for that," Another advisor says, "Yesterday we received a report coming from Fu, that you were attacked in the Yao Forest by Kuan Liang, 4th prince of Xing, and successor to the Liang Clan,"

Ling raises one of his brows, as if to say 'and so?'

"What were you doing in the Yao forest, young lord?"

"Why do you ask that? It's my forest, isn't it?"

"Yes, but it's very dangerous," The same advisor replies patiently, "On the other side of that forest lies the territory of the Liang Clan, and I'm sure you are aware that the relations between the Yao Clan and the Liang Clan has been deteriorating in the past few years. Just right after the birth of the 17th princess of Xing, actually,"

"I know that," Ling retorts, getting more and more impatient to leave the room with each passing second.

"The point is, young lord," Another advisor says, "It's not safe to go wandering around unguarded grounds without two or more bodyguards watching your back. You barely escaped with your life yesterday,"

"The competition between the Clans always gets worse and worse with each passing year. You are still under the age of ten, so the older successors still view you as a helpless, easy target,"

Ling stays silent as the advisors ramble on. The eldest adviser, with the very long gray beard, stands up and retrieves a file from a servant who bows and scurries hastily away. He opens the file and clears his throat, eyeing the prince as he speaks, "Currently, out of all the Emperor's sons and daughters, ten are in proper age, which means they are over the age of ten, and because they are over the age of ten, they have already began their training, and because they have already began their training, they become possible threats to the rest of the sons and daughters who are still under-aged. These under-aged successors are possible preys to the older successors, and you, Ling Yao, 12th prince of Xing, are one of them,"

He clears his throat between continuing, "Currently, you, and the successors from the Li, Zheng, Wu, and Shang clans are in the same age, which is eight, correct?"

Ling nods.

"The eldest among the five of you is the successor from the Shang clan, Xiao-Rin Shang, the tenth princess of Xing. She is your older half-sister by nineteen days and three hours. You come in second. The third one is the successor from the Wu clan, Shan Wu, thirteenth prince of Xing, and your younger half-brother by six days and four hours. The youngest is May-Lin Zheng, fourteenth princess of Xing. She is your younger half-sister by twenty-four days and sixteen hours,"

Ling's thoughts are in a jumble, and he fights to keep his concentration intact. All these brothers and sisters and clan wars are making his head spin. Why are the advisors even pushing all these senseless facts into his head?

"The first six successors of Xing are all of the same age, which is fourteen. The prince who attacked you yesterday, Kuan Liang, 4th prince of Xing, is one of them. The Yao and Liang clans are not very favourable with each other, and the same goes with the Chien clan. Their successor is Lau Chien, sixth princess of Xing. She may be a female, but she is in the proper age and she can fight. In the royal family, gender hardly matters, young prince. Watch your back,"

Ling nods again, still trying to process the advisor's words.

"Oh, and lastly, we are not in good terms with the Chang clan as well. But their successor, May Chang, seventeenth princess of Xing, is still a very young child. She is hardly a threat to you, so we can worry about her later,"

Ling's head is spinning now. He stands up, "Can I leave now?"

Without waiting for a reply, he walks off, and Fu opens the door for him. Mei Fan is waiting outside. She smiles at Ling, and then proceeds to hug her husband, Fu, who seems very happy to see her.

"How did it go, little prince?" Mei Fan asks him.

"Horrible!" Ling snaps, "I thought the purpose of the meeting was to caution me to prevent future dangers, but all they did was push various names of more than five successors into my head! I feel dizzy now, thanks to that. I wonder what the whole point was?"

"Actually, the advisors only wanted to tell you the successors and the clans you should watch out for. There are probably more than ten clans out there, bidding for your head, including Liang, Chien, and Chang," Fu says, patting Ling's head.

"Then why can't I begin my training earlier?" Ling growls, pushing Fu's hand away from his head.

"Because you're not ready yet,"

"Am so!"

"No, you're not!"

Ling folds his arms across his chest, "And what makes you think that?"

Fu looks amused, "Basing on what my granddaughter told me, you don't seem ready at all,"

"Lan Fan is lying," Ling's face is slightly red, remembering the time she wrestled him to the ground quite easily.

"The look on your face says otherwise," Fu is trying his best to hold back an amused smile, "And I know that most grandparents won't believe their grandchild when she says that she beat a prince in a wrestling match, but Lan Fan never lies. If she doesn't want to tell the truth, she usually stays silent,"

Ling only grumbles out a string of incoherent words before stomping away, leaving Mei Fan and Fu laughing silently behind him. He heads straight to the garden without even thinking, and when he arrives at the pond, he sees the familiar figure of a thin little girl, hunching slightly over the water. A mischievous smile appears on his face as an idea pops into his head. He creeps slightly towards the unsuspecting girl, and suddenly grabs hold of her thin shoulders.

"Boo!"

"Aahhh!" Lan Fan shrieks as she plummets straight into the pond.

Ling rolls on the grass, laughing. Moments later, Lan Fan's head pops out. Her face is bright red and the tips of her ears are very pink. She looks positively mortified.

"Young lord! That is so not fair!" She splutters.

Ling has to laugh for a few more seconds before he is finally able to speak a single sentence in a coherent manner, "I—ahaha—I'm so sorry, Lan Fan—haha—truly, I am,"

Then he falls back down the ground, laughing hysterically.

Lan Fan is red. Very red. She feels angry, but a small part of her is surprised, and maybe even glad. This is the first time she has ever seen the young lord laughing so freely like that. It makes him look more like an eight-year old little boy than a sour-faced spoiled brat.

But of course, she is still angry, "Young lord, will you please stop laughing!"

But Ling keeps on laughing. He tries to talk to her, but all she understands are "sorry" and "you looked ridiculous" in between the hahas.

Suddenly, Lan Fan's head disappears from the surface of the pond. Ling is still laughing, but then seconds pass, and Lan Fan still doesn't surface. Ling is still grinning, "Come on, Lan Fan. Come on up, it wasn't as embarrassing as you think,"

The pond is still.

"You're not mad at me are you?" Ling snickers.

Still nothing.

"Lan Fan?" He's not laughing now.

A few more seconds pass.

"Lan Fan, it's not funny,"

Not even a single ripple.

"I'm warning you, Lan Fan. This is starting to get annoying,"

Then the water starts thrashing, as if someone is struggling underwater. This is all it takes for Ling to dive into the pond without any second thoughts. He lands on the pond, sending waves crashing everywhere, then just as he is about to dive down below the surface, Lan Fan's head pops out of the water.

"Lan Fan! Are you—" Ling stops, and blinks slightly, looking at Lan Fan.

She is laughing. Laughing just as hard as he was earlier.

Ling blinks a few times, then realization slowly dawns on him. He points a finger at the laughing girl, accusingly, "You did it on purpose!"

"Of course, I did!" Lan Fan is still trying to hold back her laughter, "You should have seen your face when I finally popped out! It was priceless, let me tell you!"

Ling is red now. Very red. His fine clothes are soaked through, "My clothes are wet! See what you did, Lan Fan?"

Lan Fan doesn't reply. She is busy trying to stop her stomach from bursting with laughter.

Ling is annoyed now, "What is the purpose of your little dramatic skit, may I ask?"

Lan Fan grins at him, "You were the reason I fell in the pond, young lord. And now my dress is soaked. So I just felt like doing the same to you,"

She is giggling, and her cheeks are very red. The sight of this makes Ling forget for a moment how angry he is, but of course, he recovers quickly. With a mischievous grin, he shoves Lan Fan under water. Lan Fan retaliates by grabbing hold of his shirt and pulling him under with her. Soon, sounds of laughter and shrieking fills the garden.

"What is going on here?"

The two children look up and they see a stern looking woman standing on the edge of the pond, looking at them, confused.

They stop immediately, and Ling climbs out of the pond, pulling in Lan Fan with him shortly.

"Nothing, we were just playing," Ling's cheeks are still red, and his lips are still turned up in smile.

"With _her_?" The lady stares at Lan Fan in a distasteful way, taking in her simple, plain dress and messy black hair. Lan Fan shrinks under her gaze, and she looks away. She slowly steps away from Ling, keeping the proper, respectful distance.

"I am sorry, my lady. It will not happen again," Lan Fan almost whispers.

The lady sniffs disdainfully, "Well, it certainly must not!"

"I'm sorry…"

Ling looks at Lan Fan, all his blood draining from his face.

"Come along, young lord," The lady says, flashing him a kind smile, showing her pearly white teeth.

Ling only backs away.

Then one of Ling's advisors, a balding man with a stern face, steps out of the bushes. He sees the lady and breaks into a warm smile, "Why hello, Ming. I was wondering what was taking you so long. So you were looking after the prince,"

'_She's his wife', _Ling knows this, because he sees it in the way they look at each other.

"Of course," Ming says in that over-confident way that Ling usually sees in rich ladies, "I certainly will not allow the successor of this clan to spend so much time with—with a common girl like this. It is simply scandalous! And it's bad for his manners. See? I'm offering my hand and he is not taking it. Such a poor thing, indeed, to be exposed to so much bad influences,"

The advisor's eyes land on Ling, who is still looking at them, processing Ming's words, "Come along now, young lord. You are soaking wet. Come so that the servants will be able to dry you,"

Ling does not step forward, but the advisor gently pulls him with them. They leave without even turning back to say goodbye to the soaking wet little girl they are leaving behind. Ling doesn't look back, because he is afraid of what he might see. If he looks back will he see Lan Fan crying? Will he see her looking angrily at him? Will he see her running away?

But no, he sees something much worse. When he looks back, he sees Lan Fan, still dripping wet, looking shamefully at the ground, feeling as low as dirt itself. The look of a girl who feels utterly defeated. Ling's heart sinks, sinks so low that his head starts to spin and his knees start to feel like jelly. Then he realizes he is about to cry. He turns away, unable to bear the sight. The advisor's hand is cool against his shoulder, and he feels like slapping it away and running back, but he doesn't. He only lets them lead him away from the pond, and he spends the whole night tossing and turning in his bed, unable to sleep, wondering what could have happened if only he went back.

-x-

Ling Yao, 12th prince of Xing, spends the next two years mostly by himself. But that certainly didn't mean that he moped. No, he is the 12th prince of Xing, and princes do _not _mope. Well, sometimes, he _did _mope, but he got past that stage now. His tutor looks on with utter satisfaction as Ling writes furiously on numerous scrolls, squinty eyes squinting even more as he concentrates. Finally, he lifts up the scrolls with a victorious smirk.

"Done!" He announces.

The tutor quickly stops the stopwatch and checks the time. Ling looks at him, anxiously waiting for the verdict. To his relief, his tutor—Li Jung— looks up at him and smiles, "Two minutes and twenty seconds. My, my, that's certainly your best record yet, young lord,"

Ling beams and stretches his legs, "Well, what can I say? Geniuses run in the clan,"

Li Jung laughs heartily, "Well, I can't blame you for being so haughty,"

Two years ago, no sane man would dare call him 'haughty', for that surely meant a knife to your throat. But now, things have changed. With Lan Fan's absence, Ling is instantly hit by the loneliness and solitude he felt for the last few years, and so he resolves to act nicer and be friendlier. After all, everyone is not like Lan Fan, who even befriended him when he was a snotty, spoiled little brat. No, this time, he has to find supporters and friends on his own. His small time with Lan Fan taught him that. If one small little girl was willing to make friends with the snotty 12th prince of Xing, then who wouldn't make friends with a nice, jovial young boy?

"Do you wish to go outside, young lord? You keep looking out the window,"

Ling snaps his head back to Li Jung, and smiles wryly, "No, no, I was just thinking of something,"

"Well, that's fine," Li Jung smiles and reaches for his quills and scrolls.

Ling blinks, "Where're you going, old man?"

"Outside," He replies, "You can go now, too, young lord. You did well today, so I might as well give you some free time to sort out your thoughts. You feel troubled, am I right?"

Ling shakes his head, "No, I was just…thinking of stuff from the past. But that's all,"

Li Jung tilts his head quizzically, and sits back down. He eyes the young prince with a calculating expression, "Stuff from the past, eh? I heard from the some of the servants that you were a mighty unlikeable little chump a few years back. Hmph. Hard to imagine _that _being true. But the servants like you now, and you have no reason to worry. Unless you're worried about something else, that is,"

"No, I'm not worried," Ling laughs weakly, "I'm just—how do I say this?"

"You know you can say anything to me, young lord," Li Jung reaches out to pat his shoulder, "You're like a son to me now, anyway,"

Ling nods, then he says, quite hesitantly, "It's about this girl—"

The old man grins immediately, "I knew it,"

Ling's face turns into a deep shade of crimson, "No! It's not like that! It's just…" He pauses, thinking of the best way to interpret his thoughts, "She's an old friend, but I guess I did something that drove her away. It's because of her that I decided to try acting friendly and do my lessons properly. I just feel guilty, repaying her kindness with harshness,"

Li Jung watches the young prince's soldiers sag comically with amusement, "I see. Regrets of the past, yes? Well, now, you better apologize to her right now or you may never get the chance again,"

"You say it like it's so easy," Ling grumbles.

"It's not," Li Jung nods, "When you think about it, it almost makes your skin crawl with nervousness,"

"Then why are you making me do it?"

"Because there's no other way," Li Jung replies, eyeing Ling squarely in the eye, "And besides, she is a girl, correct? Girls are more sensitive than boys, but they won't turn a blind eye to someone who is apologizing to them. They may be sensitive, overreacting creatures, but they're truly understanding and they make great listeners,"

"Uh-huh," Ling is not so sure about other women—specifically his advisor's wife—but he knows Lan Fan _is _understanding and a great listener, "So…I should just go apologize to her, right?"

"Of course you should!" Li Jung gives him an encouraging pat on the back, "You should never give up on a woman, my little lady killer. Half the thrill is in the chase,"

"What…?" Ling rubs the back of his head with his hand, his thoughts in a jumble, "I'm not a lady killer. I've never even hurt a lady before,"

"We should probably work on your symbolism skills," Li Jung comments dryly, "But anyway, you're ten years old now, right, young lord?"

"Yes," Ling replies, wondering what age has to do with this.

"Hmm…I guess people might still consider that a kid's age," Li Jung rubs his bearded chin with a hand as he thinks and thinks and thinks, with a confused Ling Yao looking at him, wondering what on earth is he thinking about, "Well, young lord, you're still just a kid, so people won't consider your talking to a girl 'scandalous' in any way,"

"Why would anyone consider it scandalous?" Ling's head is positively aching now.

"You're a boy and she's a girl," Li Jung states, as if that one simple sentence explains everything.

"Huh…?"

Li Jung bites down a suffering sigh, "Both of you are nearing the 'fruitful' age of life, and people would consider it scandalous if a girl and a boy in the 'fruitful' age are spending time with each other without a chaperone. Not to mention the fact that you are a prince and she is a low-born,"

Ling squints, "Uh…"

"To put it simply—" Li Jung grabs hold of his shoulders, "—people might think that you are taking…advantage of her in _that_ way, and even worse, they might think that she is _allowing _you to take advantage of her in _that _way. That would ruin both of your reputations for sure,"

"How on earth would I take advantage of her?" Ling asks tiredly, "She's the one who used to trick me by pretending to drown in the pond just to have me jump in and ruin my clothes,"

Li Jung sighs, "Okay, you know what? You're still a kid, you'll understand this better someday,"

Ling feels taken aback, like he usually does when someone openly challenges his intelligence. He opens his mouth to retort, but Li Jung only brushes his concerns away and stalks out of the door after gathering his scrolls and books. Ling slumps back down on the chair, thinking hard. He did lack personality back then, and he might have a much better attitude right now, but his social skills have all but improved. He still wasn't good at opening conversations with people he didn't know too well. He _was _friends with Lan Fan back then (at least he wishes they were), but it's not as if they knew the back of each other's hands. And it has been two years.

"Young lord?"

Ling looks up and sees a servant girl. She is young, probably older than him by three years, with pearly white skin and inky dark eyes rimmed with thick eyelashes. Pretty.

"I'm alright," He says, hoisting himself up, "Just spaced out,"

The servant smiles, "I'm here to clean the library. May I?"

"Of course," He says, moving aside.

He goes out of the door, leaving his books inside. He turns around and looks at the pretty servant briefly before spinning on his heels and dashing down the hall. Even the pretty servant's alluring dark eyes weren't distracting enough for him. Ling sprints down the stairs, almost knocking down another servant girl in the process. Ignoring the yells of 'be careful or you'll trip, young lord' from the servants, he dashes out of the palace and into the gardens.

They are in the middle of summer, and the pond is always a good place to relax. And besides, he never knows when Lan Fan might return. He walks carefully, hopping away from twigs that might crack under his feet. If Lan Fan really is in the pond, he wants to be as quiet as possible. He has this small feeling that she'll run the moment she hears him coming.

But of course, when he arrives, the pond is as still as ever. Ling's shoulders sag, and he briefly wonders what he expected to see. Did he expect to see an eight year old with big, round eyes kneeling by the pond, creating patterns on the ground with sticks? Or did he expect to see a ten year old young lady wearing the beautiful, lavish dresses he sees some older girls wear? Somehow, the former seems more realistic to him since he doesn't even know what ten year old Lan Fan looks like and—

Ling snaps back to reality when a strange feeling washes over him. It's familiar. Soothing, gentle, warm…

"Mei Fan?" He says, because this feeling really feels similar to Mei Fan's Qi.

No answer. Ling concentrates and tries to feel the Qi of the intruder even more. Soothing, gentle, warm…but strangely enough, it makes him feel nervous and he suddenly feels the urge to look at the damp ground on his feet. No, Mei Fan's Qi is certainly different from this.

Suddenly, someone steps out of the shadows and Ling swears he felt his heartbeat skip a few—not very important anyway—beats. That 'someone' is dressed entirely in black. Covered from head to toe with clothing that Ling recognizes is similar to Fu's bodyguard outfit. His face is covered by a mask, and his head with a dark hood. Ling immediately decides that he is a boy.

"Hey," Ling greets, still not relaxing his stance, "Are you a retainer from the Yao Clan?"

The boy nods once, but that's all. He doesn't speak.

"I'm Ling Yao, 12th prince of Xing," Ling informs him.

The boy doesn't say anything, but he bows formally.

"Um…aren't you going to say anything?" Ling asks.

The boy hesitates, but then he nods and bows again, as if to say sorry.

"No, it's alright," Ling laughs, "I'm not exactly a good conversationalist either,"

The boy's mouth turns up into a smile. Ling can only see his mouth and eyes. There is something familiar about him, but Ling dismisses the thought. After all, he knows only very few boys his age and he doesn't exactly see where this familiar boy would fit into. He looks familiar but…is Ling only imagining things? After all the stupid decisions he made in the past, he doesn't exactly trust his own brain.

"You're…not some psycho killer, are you?" Ling asks hesitantly, "Cause two years ago, I was attacked by some psycho from the Liang Clan, and I was in the Yao territory,"

The boy's mouth curves upward again, then he shakes his head.

Ling laughs, "Great, then! Now we're friends,"

The boy bows again, and they spend the entire afternoon engaging in a one-sided conversation; with Ling asking random questions, and the boy either nodding or shaking his head in response.

"So you're younger than me?"

Shake.

"Older?"

Shake.

"Ah, I see, we're the same age, aren't we? Ten, right?"

Nod.

"Great!" Ling exclaims, "Then…you're starting your fighting lessons too, right?"

Nod.

"That's great, me too. Are you doing well?"

Slight hesitance, then nod.

"Ah, well, it's pretty obvious since you're even in battle gear now,"

The boy reaches out and pats his elbow.

"Oh, me?" Ling laughs, "Yeah, I guess I'm good at fighting, too,"

Silence.

"You sure do know a lot about me, right?"

The boy taps his head.

"Yeah, it must be a part of your duty to get to know me. I guess it _is _obvious,"

Nod.

Then the boy reaches out and grabs a nearby stick. He drags it slowly against the ground, forming familiar Xingese characters on the smooth ground. Ling squints, trying to read it.

_Do you plan to become emperor, young master?_

Ling grins, "Yeah, I guess I do,"

The boy writes on the ground again.

_I wish you the best of luck, then._

"Hey, thanks," Ling laughs, "You're actually pretty nice, aren't you?"

The boy doesn't reply. He only smiles.

Ling tilts head quizzically, "You _can _talk, can't you?"

Nod.

"Then why don't you talk?"

Shake.

"You can't?"

Nod.

"But you just said you can,"

The boy shrugs.

Ling laughs, "This is probably one of the most interesting conversations I've had. Well, not as interesting as the conversations I used to have with Lan Fan, but well, you don't even know her so I won't bother getting there,"

The boy stares determinedly at the pond, not looking elsewhere.

Ling sighs, and gets up. He stretches his arms and legs and the boy watches patiently as he does so. Ling turns to him with a grin, "Well, it was nice meeting you. You could actually be my brother or something, you know. But of course it would be even better if you speak a word or two,"

Ling turns around and raises his hand in farewell, "See you soon. I hope the next time we meet we'll be able to have a real conversation,"


End file.
